


The Mercy of the Fallen

by slightlykylie



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlykylie/pseuds/slightlykylie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: When Prim is reaped, Katniss is nineteen and too old to volunteer.  Prim is going into the arena.</p><p>These are Prim's Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to work on something else and then this plotbunny attacked me and wouldn't go away. I hope you guys like it. :)

ONE

                They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying, but as Prim’s plate rises into the arena, the only moments she can see are the moments since she was reaped.

                She can hear Katniss’ voice shrieking at her from the crowd of over-eighteen citizens, sees Katniss yanking away the rope and fighting her way through the throng of children, sees Gale holding her back.  Hears Katniss’ voice, rapid and fierce, in the Justice Building: “We’ll get you sponsors, Prim.  Gale and I’ll hunt every second of the day, get some money together, we’ll take up a collection, we’ll – we’ll make Haymitch get you sponsors, tell him Ripper’ll never sell him a bottle of liquor again unless he helps you, I swear to you, Prim, _I will keep you safe –“_ and she feels again the bottom dropping out of her world as she realized Katniss has no power to do that anymore.  She feels the tickle of Cinna’s fake flames against her back, sees herself in the television screen again, ablaze with light, still looking so lost and forlorn.  Hears her own voice breaking down in tears in her interview with Caesar Flickerman.  Sees her training score flash before her: 4.  Hears Haymitch’s rough, liquor-scented laughter as he gave her his advice: _Stay alive_. Sees the sympathy and sorrow in Cinna’s eyes as he squeezed her hand in the hovercraft, feels his whisper-soft kiss on her cheek as he bid her goodbye. 

                Cinna knows what everyone knows: Prim is going to die.

                But no.  _No._ Prim looks frantically around the circle for Peeta, for Rue.  Her allies. She can feel the strong, solid pressure of Peeta’s grip as he held her hand on the chariot.  She recalls his voice, low and intense:  _I’ll be with you, Prim.  I’ll stick by you.  You’re not doing this alone._   She feels the warmth of Rue’s shoulder against hers as they stood together at the various training stations, the gentle touch of Peeta’s hand on her back as he shepherded the two of them from place to place. When she talked things over with Peeta and Rue, Prim could almost believe they had a chance of making it through the Games.  Peeta would protect her and Rue from attacks.  Rue would gather food, hunt with her sling.  Prim would heal any injuries or sicknesses that any of them had.  Prim never lets herself consider that only one of them can make it through the Games.  It will work out somehow.  It has to.

                She finds them with her eyes in the circle – Peeta across from her, Rue a few plates over – and forces herself to breathe deep, because she’s not alone here.  Peeta ignores her, as they planned, but Rue meets her eyes and gives her a reassuring nod.  Tears spring to Prim’s eyes, gratitude overwhelming her.  They’ll be okay together.  It will be okay.

                Then the gong rings, and everyone springs off their plates, and a moan catches in Prim’s throat as she turns to run.  Reminiscence time is over.

                Prim’s Hunger Games have begun. 


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

 

The sound of the gong is still reverberating in the air when Prim hears Rue shout “Woods!”, and she immediately turns to run toward the forest. That was the plan: Rue would decide the safest direction to go, and they’d go together.  A sob bursts from Prim as she hears the shouts of the Careers behind her, terror spurring her to run faster, but she clings to what Peeta told her: _No one’s going to pay any attention to either of you, as small as you are.  Just run.  Get out.  I’ll take care of the rest._  Just get away.  No one would touch them.  Just get away.

 

Prim is about ten feet away from the edge of the woods, watching Rue’s back disappear into the trees, when the first scream sounds from the Cornucopia behind her.

 

“No,” Prim chokes out, full-on sobs hitching in her chest now.  “No, no, no, _please_ –“ The scream is fading into a dying moan – Prim knows the sounds of death from her work with her mother, knows one of the other children is already gone – when another scream rings out, and then another.  A victory laugh from one of the girls, a primal yell from one of the boys, followed by the loudest shriek yet.  She presses her hands to her ears, pleading with who-knows-what -- “No, no, please, don’t, please, no no no no no –“ She stumbles, almost falls, then rights herself and runs pell-mell into the woods.  Her breath is already coming too fast, from exertion and from tears.  She trips over a root, falls over, and then screams as a hand touches her arm.

 

“Shhh.  It’s just me,” she hears, and Prim’s sobs turn into tears of relief.  It’s Rue.   Prim flings her arms around her, presses her face into Rue’s neck.

 

“Prim.  It’s okay,” Rue says, disentangling herself from the hug.  “It’s okay, but we have to keep running.  Remember?  In a straight line, so Peeta can find us.  Wait –“ She kneels and etches two lines in the earth, pointing their way.  “Come on,” she says, and beckons to Prim as she starts running again.

 

She holds Prim’s hand so Prim won’t fall.  She matches Prim’s pace so Prim won’t be left behind.  They’re together.  It will be okay.

 

They keep on for a good hour, pausing every so often to etch lines into the earth or to pull off sections of bark from the pine trees, leaving bare sap-beaded spots to mark their path. “We’re lucky it’s woods,” Rue says.  “No one except Peeta will be able to make anything out of this.  It would have been a lot harder in a different arena.”

 

“Are you sure he’ll notice?” Prim asks, wiping tears from her face – she’s almost stopped crying.

 

“He should. He knows which way we went, after all.  And we’re just going straight.  No traps at all,” Rue says.  “We’re really lucky.”

 

“How much longer do we have to go until we can make camp?” Prim says.  She’s already losing stamina.

 

Rue wrinkles her brow.  “I don’t know.  Another hour, maybe?  But we can rest here,” she says, seeing the look on Prim’s face.  She looks up, gauging the height of the trees stretching into the sky.  “This one’s pretty tall.  I’m going to go up and see if I can see what’s going on at the Cornucopia.”

 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Prim calls, as Rue begins to scurry up the tree like a squirrel.  A laugh floats down to her in answer.  Prim manages a faint smile and sinks down against the tree to wait.

 

Rue’s so silent in the tree that Prim doesn’t hear her coming down until she’s nearly on Prim’s head.  “It’s okay.  I think we’re making pretty good time,” Rue says, dropping lightly to the ground at Prim’s side.  “I can’t see the Cornucopia, but we’ve been going downhill.”  Prim hadn’t noticed that.  “I didn’t see any smoke from fires or anything.  Or any water source. I guess I’m not being much help,” Rue says with a half-smile.

 

Prim throws her arms around Rue.  “You’re so much help.  I wouldn’t last a minute here without you.  I’d be so scared.”

 

Rue tightens her arms around Prim.  “Me too.  I’m really glad you’re here,” she says softly.

 

The noise of a twig breaking behind them breaks the hug up instantly.  Prim’s mouth opens to scream and Rue claps a hand over it, shaking her head at Prim.  They both stare into the trees, eyes wide with terror, and then there’s the sound of another twig breaking and a rabbit hops into view.  Rue’s the first to begin laughing.  “I wish I had my slingshot,” she says.  “Maybe I can make one.”  She frowns into the forest.  “If I can find anything to make one with.”  She touches Prim’s shoulder.  “Come on, we should keep going.”

 

They move further into the trees, stopping occasionally to gather plants – they both know all there is to know about that.  They have nowhere to keep them, so they put them in Rue’s hood.  Rue shows Prim a kind of edible berry that they don’t have in District 12; Prim collects medicinal herbs and tells Rue about their uses.  They’re both beginning to relax, feeling more confident and free.  They hold hands as they walk.

 

They’re startled out of their relaxation and back into the Games when the cannons begin to fire.  _Boom.  Boom.  Boom._ On and on.  “Eleven,” Rue says when they stop.

 

“So Peeta must be on his way,” Prim says, pushing back the thought of what the cannons mean.  She won’t make it a day in the arena if she lets herself think about things like that.  “He said he was going to get out when the Careers were distracted at the Cornucopia.  I hope he’s safe,” she says anxiously.

 

“He’ll be okay.  There’s so much chaos at the Cornucopia, none of them would notice him leaving,” Rue says.

 

“But they’ll be so mad at him.  They’ll think he’s betraying them, telling us all their secrets.”

 

“Which he will,” Rue says with a grin.  “But he’ll be okay, Prim.  Remember, he’s going to have all those supplies and weapons.  And he’s strong.  I bet they won’t bother much about him.”

 

Prim thinks this is a lie, but Rue has a reassuring way about her.  “So what do we do now?” she says.

 

“We should probably find a good place to make camp around here.  We know Peeta’s already following us, so if we stay here he’ll find us soon.”

 

Prim nods in relief, both at the idea of stopping and of Peeta finding them.  “So what do we look for?” Prim says, trying to ignore Rue’s wistful look up into the trees.  She knows Rue would roost in a tree for the night – would probably be living in the trees full-time – if Prim weren’t there.  But Rue doesn’t say anything, and it doesn’t take them too much searching to find a dense growth of blackberries, partially hidden by a few sizable stones.  “Let’s hide in here,”  Rue says, burrowing a hole into the center of the tangle of blackberries.   “The rocks will block the wind.  And we’ll hear Peeta coming.”

 

Despite the rocks, Prim is shivering with cold almost immediately, but she cuddles close to Rue for warmth and tries to forget about it.  The sky begins to turn gray with twilight; time is ticking by.  Prim tries to picture it on the little wall clock at home, tries to guess how much time is passing as the moon begins its slow trip across the sky.  A half an hour?  Maybe an hour?  Her eyelids are beginning to close of their own accord – it’s early but today has been exhausting.  “You can sleep if you want,” Rue whispers to her, hearing her yawn.  “I’ll take the first watch.”

 

Prim wants to protest, but she’s asleep before she can.

 

She sleeps too long, she can feel it the second she wakes.  “Rue,” she whispers, and Rue’s head half-turns toward her. “Did I miss the anthem?”

 

Rue nods.  “It’s been awhile.”  She looks at the sky.  “Maybe five hours?  I think I remember the list of people who died --”

 

“Was Peeta one of them?” Prim whispers urgently.

 

“No.  He’s okay,” Rue says.  “It was… the girl from 3, the boy from 4 --”

 

“But wait.”  Prim strains to make out the woods around them in the dark.  “If he’s not dead… where is he?  Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

 

“I don’ t know,” Rue says, but Prim hears the tension in her voice. “Maybe he got hung up somewhere by a trap or something, or maybe he’s just having a hard time tracking us.  But we know he’s okay,” she adds hastily.  “There haven’t been any cannons since the anthem, so –“

 

And then they hear a scream. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

 

                Immediately they’re rolling out of the blackberries and stumbling to their feet, Prim’s own scream caught in her throat.  “Peeta!” she gasps to Rue.

 

                “I don’t think so.  Sounds like a girl.” They hear a cacophony of laughter and cheers – “Careers,” Rue breathes, and shoves Prim down.  “Back in the bushes.  Hurry!”  They clamber back into the bush and hug each other tight.  Prim is sure that the sound of the blood pounding in her temples must be loud enough to tell every Career within a mile where they are.  But then they hear the feet tramping away from them, the laughter and talking getting quieter.  The scream has died down to a moan now, a moan that goes on and on.  “Rue, what if it’s Peeta?” Prim whispers, pushing back her tears.

 

                “I don’t know.”  The sound of the moan could be anybody now, boy or girl.  “Stay here.”  Rue wriggles out of the bushes and begins swinging up into a tree.  “I’m going to go check.”

 

                “No!”

 

                “I have to.  I’ll be okay.  Promise.”  And then Rue’s gone.

 

                Prim lies in the bushes, tears trickling down her cheeks, listening to the moaning sound.  The pain in it is palpable. Prim’s mind is a swirling mix of terror for Peeta, fear for herself, and pity for the child in pain.  She’s never been this close to serious pain without making a move to help.  More and more, she’s fighting back the urge to climb out of the bushes, follow the sound, do whatever she can to make the pain stop…

 

                “Prim.”  Rue drops down in front of her.  “It’s okay.  It’s not Peeta.”

 

                “Oh.”  She exhales her relief.  But it’s hard to feel good about anything with that horrible noise coming from the woods so near them.  “Who is it?  What happened?  Where are the Careers?” she asks, her words tripping over one another.

 

                “I don’t know who, some girl.  Her leg’s cut.  The Careers are way ahead, but they’re fighting about whether she’s dead or not.”

 

                “They’re going the other way?  They’re not close?”

                “Yes, but –“

 

                Immediately Prim scrambles out of the bush.  “Come on,” she says to Rue, and takes off at a run.

 

                “Prim!  Prim, no!  They could come back to finish her off –“ But Prim doesn’t turn.  “ _Prim –_ “ Rue sets off after her.

 

                Prim isn’t quiet in the woods, crashing through the underbrush.  Rue is terrified, looking everywhere for the Careers, knowing how quickly they will both die if the Careers aren’t out of earshot.  “Just slow _down,_ please,” she says, as loudly as she dares, but Prim doesn’t hear her.  Then a figure bursts out of the trees and they both scream.

 

                “Prim.  Rue.  What the _hell_ are you doing?” a voice says.  Peeta.

 

                Rue runs to him.  “Oh you got here, we thought you were dead, oh thank –“  She gives him a hug, then immediately pulls away.  “There’s a girl hurt up there –“

 

                “I know.  I thought she was one of you.  But you’re safe.  I can’t believe – _what_ are you doing making all this _noise_ –“

 

                “I know.  I know.  It’s Prim.”  Rue gestures frantically.  “She’s going to help the girl, and I don’t know if the Careers –“

 

                “ _Dammit_.”  At once Peeta pulls out a sword.  “We’ll have to guard her.  Get in a tree and watch for them.  If they’re coming, yell.”  He slings a bow and arrow off his shoulder.  “I know you’re not great with this but if they come you can try – can you climb with it?” he asks, but Rue’s already halfway up a tree.  A second later he hears the rustle that means she’s jumped into the next tree.  “ _Damn_ it, Prim!” he mutters again, and takes off at a run.

 

                By the time they get there Prim’s already kneeling by the girl, examining her leg.  “Okay.  It’s okay, honey,” she whispers.  “You’ll be okay.”  The girl continues to moan, semiconscious.  “Okay,” Prim mutters, this time to herself, and then hears the others.  “Peeta!  You’re safe!  Oh I’m so glad, we were so scared –“ she says, then immediately bends back down over the girl.  “Did you get bandages from the Cornucopia?  I need –“

 

                “I got a big medical kit, but Prim –“

 

                “I need the bandages.”  She fumbles on the ground around her.  “And a stick.  Where’s Rue?” she asks.

 

                “I’m here,” Rue says, her voice strained and tense. 

 

                “Okay.  I need the stuff in your hood.  Can you drop it down?”

 

                “Prim, we can’t –“

 

                “Do it!” And Prim’s voice is so urgent, and so unlike her, that Rue stops.  A second later Rue’s jacket drops down next to Prim’s leg, the hood bundled up and tied off.

 

                “Okay.  Thank goodness I found agrimony back there,” Prim says, pulling the bundle apart.  “Here it is.  Okay, honey, you’re going to be fine.”  She shakes the girl gently, trying to keep her awake.  “What’s your name?” she asks, plastering handfuls of herbs into the wound.  The girl murmurs something indistinguishable.  “What?”

 

                “Holland,” the girl whispers.

 

                “Holly?”

 

                “Holland.”

 

                “Okay, Holland, we’re going to get you fixed up.  Peeta, I need those bandages,” Prim calls.

 

                “Keep your voice down!”  Peeta digs around in a big pack he’s got and pulls out the first aid kit, but he doesn’t open it.  “I don’t think this is a good idea –“

 

                “Just give me the kit.”

 

                “I’m sorry, but we can’t go around saving people’s lives, not when –“

 

                “Give me the kit, Peeta!”

 

                “Okay,” he whispers.  “Okay, but _please_ stop yelling –“

 

                “All right.  Sorry.”  Prim begins digging through the kit.  “I need a stick.”  Seconds later, one drops down to her from the tree.  “Thanks.  Okay –“  She pulls bandages out of the kit, begins tying a tourniquet, still murmuring soothing noises to the girl.

 

                “Stop making noise!  I can’t hear if they’re coming if you –“

 

                “All _right_ ,” Prim whispers crossly, but she falls silent.  It turns out not to matter; the girl’s still moaning. 

 

                “Can’t you stuff one of the bandages in her mouth or something?”

 

                “She might choke.  Okay.”  Prim finishes tying the tourniquet, begins binding up the rest of the wound.  “I think she’ll be okay –“

 

                “All right.  Fine,” Peeta whispers.  “She’ll be okay.  Now we need to _go_.”

 

                “I can’t leave her.”

 

                “Prim!” Peeta’s own voice is rising in irritation; he chokes himself off hurriedly.  “We can’t stay here!  The Careers must have noticed her cannon didn’t go off, they could be back any minute –“

 

                “We have to get her out of here.”

 

                “We have to get out of here ourselves!”

 

                “I know. We’ll take her with us.”  Prim begins bundling up the scattered herbs and berries.  “I’ll take your pack.  You carry her.”

 

                “Carry her _where_?”

 

                “I don’t know, wherever we’re going.”

 

                “She’s making too much noise!”

 

                “Wait –“  Prim digs around in the medical kit again.  “Sleep syrup.  Open wide,” she tells the girl.  The girl doesn’t react. Prim pulls her lips apart, pours a little sleep syrup in her mouth.  “Swallow,” she tells the girl.  The girl does.  Within seconds her moans cease and her eyes close.  “Let’s go,” Prim says, closing the kit and shoving it back into the pack.  “She’s not very big – you can carry her, right, Peeta?”

 

                Terror and frustration are warring in Peeta’s eyes; he opens his mouth, closes it, and takes a long breath.  “Okay,” he whispers, and bends down to pick up the girl.

 

                “Careful of her leg,” Prim says, but Peeta’s already got her over his shoulder.  “Okay,” he says again.  “Where are we going?”  He looks up into the tree. “Rue, can you see any place good?”

 

                “I think –“  All of a sudden Rue breaks off.  “Oh _no,”_ she breathes, terror in her voice.  “Be quiet –“

 

                And then they all hear it, moving toward them.  Tramping feet.  Voices.

 

                Careers.

 

                “Come on!”  Rue is flying through the trees, whisper-yelling at them. “We have to get back to the blackberry bush, it’s the only place –“ Peeta and Prim run full-out toward the bush, gasping from exertion and from the weight of their burdens.  A moment later they’re back at the bush.   “Put her down,” Prim gasps, and Peeta does.  Immediately Prim begins rolling the girl into the bush, then crawling in after her.

 

                “I’ll stay up here,” Rue whispers.  “Peeta, can you hide in those rocks?”

 

                He looks around.  There’s a pile of large rocks a few yards away, forming a crevice Peeta might just be able to crawl into.  “No.  I can’t guard from there.”  He ducks behind a tree.

 

                “Peeta, no, it’s not safe –“

 

                Peeta shushes her; the Careers’ voices are getting louder.  Moving nearer.  The three of them try to still their harsh breathing, try to make out the Careers’ words over the sound of their heartbeats pounding in their ears.

 

                All of a sudden the feet stop.  There’s a cry of surprise and then a babble of voices.  A boy’s voice breaks through, loud and intense, and then there’s another, calmer tone, assessing the situation, giving directions.

 

                The Careers have discovered that Holland isn’t there.  The Careers are on the hunt. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People who have read my previous fic, The Reaped, may have noticed (though probably not yet :)) that I'm using the same names for unnamed tributes as I did in my other fic. I kind of got attached to them and they became canon in my head. :) So, yeah, the tributes and their personalities will stay the same as those in The Reaped, but the details of what happens to them in the arena will change to fit this story. I hope you guys are enjoying this fic thus far!


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

                “There’s no way she isn’t dead.  There’s _no way_.”  The boy’s voice is arrogant, loud with indignation.  “I know where I cut her.  She’s dead.”

 

                “Then where is she, Cato?” comes a female voice.  “Because she’s not here.”

 

                “We must have missed the cannon.  They already took her away.”

 

                “We can’t have missed the cannon!  Are you kidding?”

 

                “Shut up, both of you. It doesn’t matter.  We have to look for her.”

 

                “Where?  There are no blood trails.  There’d be blood trails if she went anywhere.  She’s dead!”

 

                “Unless somebody took her.”

 

                All three of the hiding alliance stop breathing.

 

                “Who would take her?  You know she didn’t have any allies.”

 

                “How do we know?  It’s the only explanation.”

 

                “Unless we missed the cannon.”

 

                “We didn’t miss the fucking cannon!”

 

                “ _Seriously_ , you guys, _cut it out_. Let me think.”  There’s a pause.  “Okay,” the boy who isn’t Cato says.  “There’s a trail here.”

 

                Prim lets out the tiniest of whimpers. 

 

                “Let me see.  Get out of the way, Marvel.”  They hear Cato shoving someone aside.  Another pause, much shorter.  “That’s not a trail.  She was flailing around. Probably dragged herself a few feet.”

 

                “No – here . And here.  They’re boot prints.  Someone was running.”

 

                “That’s from us.  Earlier.”

 

                “Maybe.  Maybe not.”

 

                “Okay, guys, I’m serious.”  Marvel’s voice is low and harsh.  “There’s a trail.  If there’s someone around here, we better kill them now.” Prim is trembling so hard she’s nearly shaking the bush.  “Palometa, take the lead.  You’re the best tracker. And everyone _shut up_.”

 

                The Careers fall silent.  Prim squinches her eyes shut, holding Holland tight.  Up in the trees, Rue’s a shadow. Peeta’s tree is barely wide enough to cover him.

 

                Footsteps, closer and closer.  Then a pause.

 

                “It ends here.”  Palometa’s voice rings out clearly, five feet from the blackberry bush. “They’re here.”

 

                A second’s pause.  Nobody moves.  Nobody breathes.

 

                Then Cato begins to laugh.  “Right.  They’re here!” he chortles.  “They got invisibility spray from the Cornucopia.  Hey, assholes!”  He does a martial-arts kick in the air, then swings his sword in a wide arc.  “Killed that one!”

 

                “Cato, would you shut the fuck up for one fucking –“

 

                “Both of you shut the fuck up!” Marvel’s voice has lost all patience.  “They could be hiding.  Split up. Palo, Clove, check those rocks.  Glimmer, take the night-vision glasses, get up a tree and look around.  I’ve got the ground to the west, Cato, take the ground to the east.  Now.”

 

                A chilling laugh rings out.  “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Clove hoots.  “Olly-olly-in-free!”

 

                And they begin the search.

 

                Between the dense leaves of the bushes, Prim can just barely see Clove and Palometa tearing apart the pile of rocks Rue wanted Peeta to hide in.  There’s the sound of boots against bark; Prim whips her head around frantically, trying to see if Glimmer picked Rue’s tree, but she can’t see anything in that direction.  She can see Marvel’s boots kicking through the bushes on the other side of the clearing from her.  Cato is doing something on her left, she doesn’t know what.  Then, to her horror, she sees Marvel heading directly for Peeta’s tree.  He’s about to step around it when he hollers, “Stop!”

 

                Everyone freezes. 

 

                “I heard something. Right over there.  Everyone _be quiet_.”

 

                And he steps around Peeta’s tree.

 

                There’s a long silence.  Then, unbelievably –

 

                “It’s further over here.”  Prim sees Marvel’s boots moving away from the tree.  Away from the tree?  “Palo, get over here –“

 

                There’s a loud rustling noise, and a fox scurries out of the underbrush next to Marvel’s feet, tearing across the clearing with a yelp.

 

                Cato’s laugh rings out.  “There’s what we’ve been tracking.  A fucking _fox_.  You satisfied now?”

 

                “No,” Marvel says, though there’s a tiny bit of uncertainty in his voice.  “Glimmer, did you see anything?”

 

                “Nothing.”   Prim can hear Glimmer shimmying back down the tree.  “I’m with Cato.  This is dumb. So we missed the cannon when we were fighting. There’s no one here, that’s for sure.”

                “Yeah, whatever.  Cato, are you even looking?”

 

                And Prim hears the sound she’s been most dreading: Cato’s feet approaching her bush.

 

                She can see his feet getting closer and closer.  He stops so close she feels the dirt he’s kicked up spraying her face.  There’s nothing in the world but his boots – the earth clinging to the toe, the dust coating the laces.  Another shuffle.  Prim closes her eyes against the dirt, Holland pulled to her so tight her arms hurt, begging in her mind – _please go away please go away please go away please go away –_

 

                Cato’s boot kicks around in the bush.  The toe comes straight at her head. Prim gives herself up to die.

 

                And then it’s gone.

 

                “You’re barely looking at all,” Marvel’s voice accuses.

 

                “I looked enough!” Cato’s voice is furious.  “You want a fight, Marvel?  Is that what you’re looking for?  You fucking asslicker fag --“

 

                “ _What_ did you just call me?”

 

                “Boys!” Palometa steps between them, just in time. “You can kill each other later.  I’m ready to get the hell out of here.”

 

                “Me too,” comes Glimmer’s voice.  “It’s getting light.  Let’s get back to camp.  The little shit should be done with the mines by now.”

 

                Their boots are moving away.  The sounds of their voices, still arguing, disappear into the lightening dawn.

 

                It’s a full fifteen minutes before any of them dare to move.

 

                Then Peeta’s head pops out of the ground. 

 

                Prim and Rue both scream, then remember where they are.  Rue claps a hand over her mouth, looking horrified. “Sorry,” Prim gasps, clambering out of the bush.  “I’m just so –“

 

                “I don’t think it matters.”  Peeta cranes his neck, looking in the direction the Careers went.  “They’re long gone.”

 

                “How did you even get in there?” Prim asks.  “We thought you were behind the tree!”

 

                “I was.”  Peeta laughs, high on relief and adrenaline, wiping dirt off his face with the sleeve of his jacket.  “But I knew they’d find me.  Then I saw this little ditch – not even a ditch, really, just a little hollow, but full of leaves – and I camouflaged my face and then just dropped in, covered myself as fast as I could.  That was when Marvel heard me.  He was about two seconds too late.”  Peeta laughs again.  “He stepped right on my face.  Is my nose bleeding?”

 

                He swipes at his nose, examining his hand for blood, and then it hits them all funny and they all crack up.

 

                “Do you think we should move on?” Rue asks, once their laughter has dwindled into giggles.  She drops to the ground.  “We might be safer here than anywhere else, since they just decided we’re not here.”

 

                “We need to stop for a bit, anyway,” Prim says.  “I never even bandaged her leg. All I had time for was the tourniquet.”  She rolls the still-sleeping Holland out of the bush, then roots around in the medical kit, pulling out bandages and antiseptic spray.  Peeta and Rue’s eyes meet across the clearing, full of frustration, but neither of them say anything.  Then Prim pulls a gallon of water out of Peeta’s pack and begins to unscrew the top.

 

                “Prim!” Peeta bursts out.  “You can’t use that on her leg.  I mean, we need it for ourselves.  I haven’t found any water sources yet, have you?”  Rue shakes her head.  “We can’t just… use our drinking water for some random girl’s leg.”

 

                “She’s not ‘some random girl.’  She’s Holland,” Prim says.

 

                Peeta blinks at this.  “But… so?  Have you ever even talked to her?”

 

                “No,” Prim says.  “But none of us are ‘some random’ person. If Cato almost killed me, I’d want her to help me.  So would you.”

 

                “But she wouldn’t.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because – Prim, we can’t…”  Peeta clears his throat uncomfortably, twines his hands together.  “I… it’s awful, but we can’t just – go around saving strangers’ lives.  It’s the Games, remember?  Only one of us can –“

 

                “Don’t you remember what you told me?” Prim says.  “That you don’t want the Games to turn you into someone you’re not?”  She meets his gaze steadily.  “I know you from home, Peeta.  You’d never just let someone die if you could save them.”  She pauses, then adds, “Remember the bread.”

 

                Peeta’s silent a long time, his face showing the conflicting emotions warring inside him.  “Okay,” he says finally.

 

                A smile breaks across Prim’s face. “Really?”

 

                “Yeah.”  Peeta sighs.  “If it’s okay with Rue.”  They both look over at her.

 

                Rue hesitates a moment, then nods.  “If you both think so,” she says.  “I’ll go along with you.”

 

                “Thank you,” Prim says softly.  “I just… I can’t leave her to die.”

 

                “I know,” Peeta says, and sighs.  “But do you really have to use the water? We really need it for drinking water. So will she, too, if we take her with us.”

 

                “I’ll only use a little.”  Prim pours a small amount of water on a bandage, then sets about cleaning the girl’s leg.  “It could even be a good thing, having her around.  We’ll be an alliance of four now.  She can keep watch so we can get more sleep…”

 

                “No.”  Peeta shakes his head adamantly.  “We’re not trusting her to do that.  She could kill us all in our sleep.”

 

                “No!” Prim’s face clouds over.  “I don’t think she would.  Not after we saved her life,” she says.  “I remember her a little from training.  She seemed sweet.”

 

                “So did Johanna Mason a few years back,” Peeta grumbles.

 

                “We’ll have to watch her closely,” Rue says. “Maybe she’ll be okay.  But maybe not.  Let’s just… be careful.”

 

                “All right,” Prim says absentmindedly, winding a bandage around Holland’s leg. “There.”  She tapes the bandage up and then stands, brushing dirt off her knees.  “Where are we going?”

 

                “I don’t know,” Peeta says.  “Not back toward where we found the gi—where we found Holland.  I’ve been over there.  There’s nothing good.”

 

                “Let’s just head in the opposite direction then.  I’ll scout for someplace from the trees,” Rue says, swinging herself back up.

 

                “All right.”  Peeta sighs, then picks Holland up and swings her over his shoulder, grunting a bit under the dead weight.  “Prim, are you sure you can handle the pack?”

 

                “Yes,” Prim says, but she staggers a bit under the weight as she picks it up.  “Let’s go.”

 

                “This is the stupidest idea ever,” Peeta mutters under his breath.

 

                Then they set off, four instead of three now.

 


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

 

                Every second that Prim is in the arena is a second that Katniss goes a little crazier.

 

                She can’t stop moving and then she can’t move an inch.  She runs to the woods like wild dogs are after her, shooting  anything that moves, her whole world narrowed down to the point of her arrow.  Wild dogs, then tiny squirrels not worth a dollar in trade.  Geese and hummingbirds.  A sleepy hedgehog stumbling out of a bush.  She carries them back to the Hob badly cleaned and dripping with blood, and then the flip side of the mania hits her and she drops the game on Greasy Sae’s table, knowing she’ll get paid later – she’s getting really good deals in trade right now, anyway – and tears back home, flings herself into a chair, staring wild-eyed at the television like Prim’s life depends on Katniss’ catching every second of what’s on the screen.  Pinned to the chair, white-knuckling the arms.  Tears spill out of her eyes without her noticing.  Her mother stands in the doorway for a moment or two, watching the television with a face the color of old snow, then turns and goes back to organizing her herbs and tinctures, hands trembling.  Katniss barely notices her.  Then she can’t stand it anymore and takes off for the woods, shooting, shooting, stopping to scream at the sky, crumple into a bush in tears, then leaping up, shooting, shooting.  Bring game back to the Hob dripping blood.  Beg people to contribute to a collection to sponsor Prim.  Tear back home.  Rush to the TV, zeroing in on the tribute count, the list of the dead.  Prim isn’t there.  Prim isn’t there.  Prim isn’t dead.  Crying, pinned to the chair.

 

                Whenever Prim appears on the TV Katniss gets up, stumbles to the TV, runs her finger over Prim’s face on the screen.   Healthy and whole, tear-streaked and lost.  But alive.  She’s still alive.  There’s still a chance.  She’s still alive.

 

                The first day Prim hardly shows up on the screen at all. _That’s good_ , Katniss thinks, _that’s good, no one’s paying any attention to her, she’s alive, it’s okay._ Choking out a crazy laugh, because nothing is the least little bit okay.  But boring is good.  Boring means living.

 

                Then Prim saves Holland, and she’s on the screen for quite awhile.

 

                “Now, I have to say, this seems like a very _unusual_ choice,” Caesar Flickerman says to Seneca Crane, both perfectly made-up and coiffed.  “Although there is clearly an alliance between –“ He glances quickly at one of the monitors before him. “—Rue Gerson, Peeta Mellark, and of course Primrose Everdeen, it doesn’t appear that –“ Another glance.  “—Holland Anderson is a part of that alliance. It seems that Primrose – have I heard them shorten her name to ‘Prim’? – that _Prim_ was acting _on her own_ when she ran to help Holland.  Seneca, what do you make of this?”

 

                “Honestly, Caesar, I’m not quite sure what to make of it,” Seneca Crane says, brow furrowed. “Of course, we can’t rule out the possibility that Primrose and Holland have some sort of prior alliance of which Rue and Peeta were unaware.  But the circumstances seem to weigh against that conclusion – obviously no one could have predicted that Holland would be cut and, in fact, nearly killed by Cato at that spot –“

 

                “You believe, then, that Holland would have died if it weren’t for Prim’s rush to rescue her?”

 

                “Absolutely, Caesar.  We’ve spoken with doctors about this, doctors who say Holland would unquestionably have bled to death over time if Primrose hadn’t treated her as she did.  So, yes.  What it appears we have here is one tribute – one who is very much an underdog in these Games – saving the life of another tribute who is _not_ an ally, apparently out of…  simple kindness.  I have to tell you, Caesar, this isn’t something we see every day in the Hunger Games.”

 

                “What do we know about Prim from her time here in the Capitol, Seneca?  Many viewers are asking if we can in fact _believe_ that she was motivated by, as you put it, simple kindness, or whether this might be a trap of some kind.  Is it possible she’s playing the weakling as a strategy to stay alive?  It’s been done before, hasn’t it?  As I recall, that strategy was a notable success for one of our well-known prior victors, Johanna Mason –“

 

                “Well, of course we can’t discount it.  But there are a few ways in which this appears to diverge from the traditional “weakling” strategy.  Tributes who choose that strategy are generally opportunists; they wait for other tributes to kill one another off in order to stay out of danger.  Primrose appears to have thrown herself _into_ danger to _save_ Holland.  And I’d like to mention that that’s not perhaps as common a strategy as we tend to think; for every Johanna Mason, there are twenty tributes who genuinely were weaklings – and who died for their weakness.  As for her performance here in the Capitol, well, Primrose certainly seemed to be a long-shot.  Odds of her victory were set at – what?”

 

                “One hundred and six to one at the start of the Games.”

 

                “Right.  One hundred and six to one.  Those are pretty abysmal odds.  And personality-wise, she seemed… well, “sweet” is probably a good word to describe it –“

 

                “I recall she was tearful in her interview, Seneca.  And at one point she did in fact _say_ that she wasn’t sure that she would be able to kill anyone.  As a matter of fact, she said at that time that her mother is a healer in District 12, and that she, Prim, has trained to be one as well.  She said she was used to _healing,_ not killing.  The interview may in that sense have given us a preview of this highly unusual choice to save a fellow tribute.”

 

                “Well, one of the doctors I spoke with earlier did tell me that Primrose had demonstrated a fair amount of medical skill in her treatment of Holland.  She wasn’t fumbling around in that medical kit, improvising.  She knew exactly what she needed to do and she did it swiftly and effectively. And while of course I can’t speak to anything that happened in training, I’d mention that although a score of 4 is below-average, she’s small enough physically that she had to demonstrate skill in some area to score even that high.”

 

                “So here we have something of a conundrum, then: Prim’s main strength, the skill that tipped the odds just the tiniest bit in her favor going into the Games, is her medical expertise.  But if she’s using that skill to save other tributes, tributes who are in competition with her --”

 

                “Tributes who could actually kill her later in the Games.”

 

                “ – yes, exactly -- she may be using her strength to tilt the scale _away_ from her.”

 

                “I think you’ve hit the nail on the head, Caesar.  Very unusual.  Quite a surprise.”

 

                “Now, last question, and then I’ll let you get back to the control room, where I’m sure you’re needed.  We said that Primrose’s odds going in were one hundred and six to one.  What do you think this turn of events will have done to those odds?  What would you say her odds are now?”

 

                “Well, you know, it’s interesting, because before this surprising new wrinkle, I’d say her odds were getting significantly better.  It’s a funny little alliance she’s part of, but they could really show some strength – Rue may be small but her skill in the trees and in finding edible plants is a significant bonus to their team, and Peeta has the physical power to defend against at least some attacks – and let’s not forget he left the Cornucopia with quite a few supplies.  Between that and Prim’s medical  skill, they have most of the bases covered: food, fight,  camouflage and spying capability, and health.  They could go a long time on that, and I’d expect their odds to narrow considerably.  But now there’s a fourth tribute that they’re literally carrying around, one who hasn’t demonstrated much strength or skill, one who’s really an unknown factor to them at this point – and, on the most basic level, you can’t win the Games by saving other tributes’ lives.”

 

                “It’s not a place for the softhearted.”

 

                “Absolutely not.  So with regard to Primrose Everdeen?  I’d say, Caesar, that at this point, all bets are off.”

 

                “Thanks very much for being with us today, Seneca.  Now, coming up next, we’re speaking with Livia Heron, mentor to Clove Escarpe, who, with five kills at the Cornucopia alone, has become the odds-on favorite to win at this stage in the Games.  Stay tuned. ..”

               

                But Katniss doesn’t stay tuned; the switch has been tripped and she bounds out of the chair, slinging her game bag over her shoulder, sprinting toward the woods.  She can’t stand it anymore.  Prim is going to get herself killed saving some complete stranger from District 8.  Prim, who wept to save Buttercup when he was a skinny ball of matted fur crawling with fleas.  Prim, who couldn’t go hunting because she cried to save every animal Katniss shot.  Prim, who Katniss loves more than life, loves for her kindness and gentleness and inability to see anyone or anything in pain without trying to cure them.  Prim, who is going to lose her life because of all that is best about her.

 

                But she won’t.  No.  She won’t.  Katniss pulls her bow and arrow out of the hollow log, hefts it, sights a rabbit, shoots it through the eye.  Katniss will raise the money to sponsor her.  Katniss will watch over her night and day.  Katniss will bring her home.  Katniss will keep her safe. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So man, I dropped this fic for a *very* long time -- close to a year and a half -- but I'm back on it now! I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing and I thought this was a decent place to start. So, yeah. When last we saw Prim, Peeta, and Rue, Prim had saved the girl from District 8 from death and insisted that she join them, Caesar Flickerman and Seneca Crane were puzzled and Katniss was losing her mind. There, that's the context. Now for the chapter. :)

 

  
**CHAPTER 6**

“Hey, Peeta?”

Peeta turned, scowling. “This medical kit is starting to run low,” he said to no one in particular. Holland was sitting to his left, back to the wall of their cave, brow wrinkled as she stirred a pot of soup. Her injured leg stuck out straight in front of her, healing but still delicate. “It's mostly the iodine that's bugging me," Peeta said. "We're running down fast.” Belatedly, he registered Prim's greeting. “Oh. What's up, Prim?” he asked.

“Will you take a walk with me?” Prim asked. “I need to collect some more herbs. It isn't far,” she added quickly.

Peeta repressed a sigh; Prim couldn't go five steps from camp without someone to protect her -- but then, he wouldn't have wanted her to. He glanced around him. “Can it wait awhile? I was just doing an inventory of our stuff.”

“That's okay,” Holland said, putting the pot back on the coals and jumping up. “I can do it. You guys go.”

“No! I mean, uh... that's okay,” Peeta said, exchanging a glance with Rue: Holland sincerely wanted to help with everything and was capable of doing hardly anything. She was sweet and transparent enough that it was impossible not to trust her, even to like her, but having her around had not made their lives easier. “On second thought, it can wait. Rue, can you keep watch without me?”

Rue held up her bow and arrows – practicing constantly, she'd improved significantly in the last two days. “Just don't go far. If anything seems off I'll send a message with the mockingjays.”

“The alarm signal. Okay. Got it.” He turned to Prim. “Where do you want to go?”

“There's more agrimony this way,” Prim said, leading him off into the woods. “That's what I need.”

They'd barely made it fifteen yards into the woods when Prim stopped, cocking her head. “Hold on. Do you hear that?”

Peeta froze. “What?” They stood still for a good minute and a half, listening. “No,” he said eventually. “I don't hear anything. What did you hear?”

“Oh... something like... a branch cracking... over there.” Peeta glanced over at Prim, wondering at her tone; there was a disconnect between her faltering voice and her eyes, which were exaggeratedly wide. He thought that she was trying to convey something to him, but he had no idea what.

“Prim --”

“No,” she broke in, eyes even wider. “I mean... can we climb that tree to keep a lookout for awhile?” she asked, gesturing to a willow tree nearby. “It would be hard to see us in there.”

“I... sure,” he said, watching her closely, trying to read her. “Let's climb up.”

Once they'd made it up fifteen feet or so, Peeta giving Prim a leg up several times, Prim turned to Peeta, ignoring the forest around them. “Do you remember Piper?” she asked him.  


'The boy who used to help at the bakery? The deaf-mute?” Peeta asked. “Sure. Why?”

“You learned the sign language we used to talk to him.”

“You learned it first, Prim,” Peeta said. “You were the first one outside his family to really try to talk with him. I just sort of jumped on board. It was the only way he could work with us, anyway.”

“Yeah. I wish we had him here,” Prim said. “His vision was so much better than the rest of ours, because he couldn't hear. He could see for miles.”

“What...” Peeta glanced over at her, puzzled; he'd never heard that. Then he started.

 _Do you still remember how?_ Prim had signed.

“I...” Peeta caught himself; whatever was happening, Prim was signing for a reason. He glanced around; sure enough, the willow leaves were likely to conceal them from cameras as well as other tributes. _Yes_ , he signed back. _Why?_

_I want to talk to you about something._

_I figured,_ he signed back. _What's going on?_

Prim glanced around nervously. “I liked him,” she said. “He was nice.” Then signed, _Where do you think things are going? In the Games?_

Peeta stared. _I don't know what you mean_ , he replied eventually.

_The Games... we've been okay so far, but..._

_I know_ , he signed back. _It's been a day since the Four girl died. They're going to come after us soon._

 _No! That wasn't what I meant_ , Prim signed, agitated. Peeta sighed; he'd learned by now that Prim didn't deal with the reality of the Gamemakers very well. _I mean..._ She let a long pause go by, staring over Peeta's shoulder into the trees. _I don't want to kill anyone_ , she signed finally, meeting his eyes again.

 _I know,_ Peeta signed. _I'm going to try really hard to make sure you don't have to._

 _Thank you,_ Prim signed emphatically. _I really can't kill. But..._ Another long pause; Peeta watched her in some perplexity. _But isn't allowing someone to die the same as killing them?_ she signed at last.

 _We already picked up –_ Peeta paused, confused -- _H-O-L-L-A-N-D._ _We already decided she can stay with us for awhile._

 _But... not just her. Other people_.

Prim turned her head to look through the leaves, after several yards of woods, a little copse was just visible. Just at the edge of their sightline, the muddy shoreline of a murky pond glinted. Peeta followed her gaze, and then looked back at her face. One glance was enough to tell him the truth.

“Oh,” he said out loud. “Oh, no.”

“What? Do you hear something?” Prim said, shooting him a reproachful glance.

“Oh – I – maybe over there,” Peeta said disjointedly, then went back to signing, gestures bigger and jerkier than before. _Is there another tribute over there?_ he asked.

 _Yes..._ Prim signed after a time, her own gestures small.

_Someone you've been taking care of?_

_It was only a little..._ Prim didn't have a sign for iodine, but Peeta cut in before she could finger-spell it.

_He doesn't have clean water, does he? That's where the... brown liquid went._

_We still have enough_ , Prim signed. _It'll be okay. The river water is clean anyway._

_We have enough for a little while, but... Prim!_

_Anyway, it wasn't just him I wanted to talk to you about,_ Prim signed hurriedly.

_Which one is it? Which tribute?_

_The one from Ten. The crippled boy._

_Prim, he'll never survive anyway._

_You don't know that! And I don't just want to talk about him!_

Peeta stared at her for a long minute, then let out a long breath. _OK,_ he signed. _What do you want to talk about?_

_About everything. The whole Games. Peeta, I don't want to kill people. I want to save them._

Peeta let out a long breath. _Prim, I know. I really know_ , he signed in heavy gestures. _But what can we do about it? It's the Hunger Games._

_But it doesn't have to be like all the others._

_What are you talking about?_

_What if we could find a way to stand together?_ Prim gestured. _What if we could be a team?_

_An alliance, you mean?_

_Yes, but one where we'd never turn on each other. One where..._ Prim paused, searching Peeta's face; she knew if he was going to shut her down, it would be here. _One where we rescue other people whenever we can. We build up a group of people – as big a group as we can make it. We gather everyone we can. And at the end of the Games... we won't kill each other. We just won't. We'll make everyone promise. It's so... it has to be so serious. Even if it's the very end of the Games, we'll refuse to kill each other. We'll refuse to kill anyone. We won't do it. If there are a lot of us, there's nothing they can do, right?_ She gave Peeta a second, hoping his half-horrified expression would change.

_They can kill us themselves!_

_But if there's a lot of us, we can all protect each other. We'll swear to it. Wouldn't anyone prefer that?_ She looked at him, pleading. _Wouldn't you?_

Peeta was silent for a long moment, eyes clouded not just with frustration but with confusion, this time. Working it through.

 _This is why I'm signing you,_ Prim added after a time. _It's... the Gamemakers wouldn't like it._

_I'll say. Prim, what you're talking about is rebellion._

_I know... and I don't -- I don't want to make them angry, but what else can we do, Peeta? I can never kill. Never. And I don't want any of us to. But I know that I never will._

_Prim, this is –_ Peeta broke off, biting his lip. _You're the sweetest person I know,_ he signed after a minute. _You're incredible._

 _Thank you_ , Prim replied, a pink-rose flush rising to her cheeks.

_The problem is the rest of the world isn't as sweet as you._

_But... I have to try,_ Prim signed. _Even if the rest of you don't want to. I can't help it, Peeta. I can't do anything else. I can't!_

Prim's gestures had gotten so vehement that she was shaking the willow leaves. “Careful,” Peeta said out loud, reaching out for her hand. She contracted her hand in his, squeezing desperately. After a second, he squeezed back.

 _Are you saying_ _you're going to do this no matter what we say?_

_I just have to, Peeta. But the rest of you don't have to stay with me._

_Of course we do!_ Peeta signed angrily, his gestures huge and fast, shaking the leaves himself.

Prim caught his arm, guided it back down. _You and Rue can go together and – and H-O-L-L-A-N-D and T-A-R-I-N and I can go off on our own. You can have the medical supplies,_ she added quickly. _I can find things in the woods._

_No, you can't! Prim, we'd be leaving you to die!_

_No, I promise –_

_Prim, this is crazy. Protecting you is the whole thing –_ Peeta broke off sharply.

 _I know,_ Prim signed after a minute, and her face was full of a knowing sympathy that made Peeta's stomach twist nervously.

 _What do you know?_ he signed back.

 _I know why you can't let me go. But it's okay,_ she signed back.

_What is? Why can't I let you go?_

_Katniss_ , Prim signed simply.

Peeta gave a start, and then went very still. Prim stared steadily into his face, her expression understanding and calm.

 _What do you mean?_ Peeta asked after a long pause, his posture guarded.

 _I know you... have feelings for her,_ Prim said. _And I know you saved our lives once._

_Prim, that wasn't... anyone would have done that._

_No, they wouldn't. Almost no one would have, Peeta. Just you. Because you're kind. And because you... love Katniss._

Peeta flinched, feeling his face heat. He let his gaze focus on a whorl in the tree trunk in front of him, knotting his fingers together. _I don't know how to talk to you about this_ , he signed finally. _I never... talked to anyone about it before._

_It's okay. You don't have to talk to me about it._

_But I want you to understand..._ After a moment, Peeta let his hands drop.

 _I do understand,_ Prim signed back.

 _You..._ Peeta paused, looking hard at her. After a moment he signed, _Maybe you do._

_I know that's why you've been trying so hard to protect me –_

_I hope I'd have done that anyway._

_Maybe you would have. Because... that's the other thing, Peeta._

_What other thing?_

_You can't help being the way you are. And I know you don't want the Games to make you someone else. And I'm trying to tell you a way you can stay yourself._

_But if we do this, and it puts you in danger – if someone you rescued_ kills _you --_

 _Then I'll die!_ Prim signed, face suddenly furious, and Peeta drew back; this was the first time he'd seen Prim confront the Games head-on. _I'll die but I'll die still myself. If I'm going to die that has to be how._

Peeta stared at her, empathy warring with fear in his face.

 _But I really, really don't think it will happen_ , Prim signed, looking more like herself. _How could someone kill you after you saved their life?_

_It's the Games, Prim. It happens all the time._

_No it doesn't, because no one ever tries to save someone in the Games. Someone who isn't their ally. You've seen how H-O-L-L-A-N-D – let's give her a name sign, how about this?_ Prim made the sign for “nice,” holding her hand in an H.

 _Sure,_ Peeta signed, thinking that a more appropriate sign might be “stupid” with an H. But Prim was Prim.

_You've seen how Holland is with us. You know she'll never betray us._

_I know,_ Peeta signed after a long moment, frowning but conceding the point. _I know_ she _won't. But not everyone is like her._

 _But we can figure out beforehand who will be okay. I know we'd have to be careful with the Careers, but other people – T-A-R-I-N – and he could help us so much_ , Prim burst out. _He's really, really smart._

 _And he's –_ Peeta broke off before signing “He's crippled,” a little ashamed of himself: bad reason to choose whether someone lived or died. _He... will be hard to carry in other ways._

_I think he's worth it. And he won't kill any of us. I just know it._

Peeta sat still for a moment, considering it, and then buried his face in his palms. When he raised his head, his face read surrender.

 _Okay,_ he gestured. _If Rue will go along with it. Okay._

 _Thank you, thank you, thank you!_ Prim signed, beaming, and spontaneously gave Peeta a hug, nearly falling out of the tree.

“Whoa,” he said out loud, steadying her. “Careful.”

“Sorry.” _And you won't regret it, I promise,_ she signed fervidly. _I know it will be for the best._

Peeta forced himself not to roll his eyes. _How badly off is he? Is he injured?_ he asked.

_He'll be all right. He's just really dehydrated and he's starving. But we have more than enough food, with everything you got at the Cornucopia and Rue's slingshot._

“You always see the best of everything, don't you?” Peeta said out loud.

“Is that bad?” Prim asked.

“I don't know anymore,” Peeta admitted. “Here. Let me help you down.”

“And can we go over here?” Prim asked, gesturing toward the little pond, striving unconvincingly for a casual tone. “There's something I want to show you.”

Peeta sighed. “Sure,” he said. “Whatever it is. Let's go check it out.”


End file.
